Embers
by Swift-Star9
Summary: A collection of disconnected shorts taking place in the "Blue Exorcist" universe. Update: Lucifer observes his flock in the wreckage of the Dominis Liminis.
1. Approximation

_Title_ : Approximation  
 _Written_ : February 8 2016  
 _Warnings_ : None  
 _Characters_ : Hachirotaro  
 _Summary_ : Hachirotaro's thoughts as Shura leaves with Fujimoto Shiro. Spoilers for chapter 76.

* * *

"You will come back to me."

The lone hydra seethed on the hill, watching the child depart in the company of that detestable man. The wounds inflicted by chants and gunfire burned as scale and skin knitted together again.

He cared not for the child as it was now. It was pitiful, slow, and careless. Through his contract, he had blessed dozens of Tatsuko's descendants with her perfection. Every few generations one would fall short. No matter how he'd train it and pass down her beautiful techniques, it would be a shadow.

Those poor approximations weren't solely a waste. They would give birth to Tatsuko anew. Her grace would be alive again, and she'd be by his side. Through her blood, she would always be his.

He'd given the greatest gift to a fragile mortal, only asking in return to look upon her for eternity.

Nobody could take her away from him. Nobody.

* * *

 **A/N** : I have a number of short AoEx fics that I've written over the years. I never posted them because I didn't think they were good enough, but thanks to the encouraging words of the folks on the Blue Knight forum, I've decided to post them in a collection. The topics will vary, but most will be manga canon compliant. Hope you enjoy!


	2. Funeral

_Title_ : Funeral  
 _Written_ : 2013  
 _Warnings_ : None.  
 _Characters_ : Saburota Toudou  
 _Summary_ : Saburota was there at his brother's funeral.

* * *

" _That's why you already have nothing left."_

Sweet fragrance clashed against the tart decay stench clinging to the mahogany ashes.

Slight echoes of the clatter of wooden sticks sharply broke an uncertain silence.

His own hands barely held to the wood. The muscles didn't want to flex, the nervous system didn't want to signal, the cortex didn't want to.

He didn't want to-

 _He picked up another piece._

-anymore.

Abyss. The boundless nothing and his age-old companion, quiet desperation, were all he could sense. A weary man grown tired of it all. Why was he. Where was he going. Did it matter.

Taking the last bone fragment between the wood, he let it hit the linoleum. Rancor clouded his mind.

It never mattered. Not the fear. Not the isolation.

Why… Why did you let yourself get murdered. Why did you make me not feel a damn thing about your funeral. Why did you turn me into this.

You were the strong one. Not me.

* * *

Notes: According to the Wikipedia article on Japanese funeral customs, after a body is cremated, relatives pick bone fragments from the ashes and transfer them via chopsticks from relative to relative to an urn. That's what Toudou's doing here. I presume it's a huge faux pas to drop a bone fragment on the ground.


	3. Cycles

_Title_ : Cycles  
 _Written_ : June 2016  
 _Warnings_ : References to self-harm.  
 _Characters_ : Yukio Okumura  
 _Summary_ : Yukio's thoughts as he changes into the Illuminati uniform. Spoilers for chapter 96.

* * *

He held the bundle of clothes in his hands, and just for a moment he couldn't think. His brain was locked, cycling endlessly on a word: how?

Everything had turned out exactly as was foretold. His experiences, dreams and feelings were exposed like the slimy pink layer visible when skin was peeled back. His attempts to justify himself were like scratching the itchy wet skin, painful but he would continue to pick apart the self-inflicted wound.

There's a limit to how long a person can do that, how long he could do that before accepting that there was no justification that would make it right. The time had elapsed. He ignored chances to ask for help. He omitted when it was convenient. He told everyone that he was fine.

He couldn't run from the law of parsimony. He wanted salvation. He wanted it badly.

Now he had destroyed everything Father built: his position as Rin's guardian and prodigy exorcist. Truth be told, he enjoyed watching that burn to the ground.

He couldn't run from his true self. He was now committed, beyond any hope or doubt.

If he could've gone back in time, he wouldn't change a thing.


	4. So you want to know about Satan?

_Title_ : So you want to know about Satan?  
 _Written_ : November 29 2017  
 _Warnings_ : None  
 _Characters_ : Mephisto Pheles  
 _Summary_ : Mephisto recounts the history of blue flames and the Order's ancient foe, Satan. Spoilers for chapter 86.

* * *

The human race has known blue fire since the beginning. Often called spirit or holy fire, various cultures claimed it was the first fire, brought to man by a mysterious figure shrouded in myth. The physical fire that man created was but a pale imitation, for the blue flames left no trace on those who walked amidst them. While they had no known cause, the humans considered their warmth and tendency to not burn a miracle.

Oh, you want to know about Satan? Well, that's a different story.

See, in the early days, mankind needed help with my unruly siblings. Lucifer, Iblis, Egyn, and Astaroth marshaled what could be best described as forces of chaos. The poor unfortunate humans were vulnerable since they couldn't see the very enemy that sought their extinction. In a peculiar twist of fate, the concepts that humankind themselves had birthed were invisible to them. Unless they were interfered with, the humans were entirely ignorant of the threat.

Yet that ignorance was essential to their preservation. Even though they had long been separated from the human mind, the concepts could still be affected by the collective unconsciousness that created them. If all of humanity ever became aware, their own fear and belief would empower their foe.

Thus, I codified the sides into simple easy-to-understand language. Demons and angels: the divine and the fallen. Morality is such a tidy little construct. The devastation that humans bring upon each other in the name of good and evil was a testament to its effectiveness. By channeling their innate desire for greatness, humanity could rise to fight their unknown enemy without ever questioning why.

But humans, frustrating creatures they are, have a pathological need to assign hierarchy. Who was weaker? Who was stronger? _Who stood above it all?_

I will say, it was a minor puzzler, but I realized it had a straightforward solution: choose a name that is not connected to an existing concept. After all, humans can't empower a being that doesn't exist.

The Order of the Knights of the True Cross was created to allow humans to fight the concepts that sought to destroy them, under a watchful eye and restricted information. Whenever they'd freeze and start to wonder, the Order would reassert their raison d'etre: to destroy the forces of Satan.

The scope of the organization increased as the Order sprawled across countries. The true form of Satan was bent and hammered like hot metal, often into shapes that bore no resemblance to each other. I must admit it was amusing to see that so many humans from so many cultures would assign different meanings to a fictional name that had merely been created to settle their obnoxious need for order.

Indeed, I started to believe that the world had found peace. By keeping forces of order and chaos locked in a continuous struggle, all benefitted. Humanity grew stronger and their mirrored concepts, ever shackled to their human origin, became more cunning. Truly the human soul is best creeping about a life of shame, crawling through corpses out of longing for something more.

But I might have underestimated the human capacity for creation.

I am fond of humans, but will admit that fondness can be weakness. I had become entranced at how modern humans could invent new technology. I had forgotten they were also the descendants of the ancient civilizations that had inadvertently created me.

I chose the name of the Order's enemy out of whim. In the centuries that had passed since I gave that name, it became a concept of it's own. The humans, who didn't understand the entirety of what they fought, had projected everything they were becoming onto that one name. I hadn't given a name that was intended to focus humanity's will to fight. Humanity's will to fight breathed life into the name I'd given.

In hindsight, it was unavoidable. How could humanity develop so much knowledge and art without remaking the landscape of human unconsciousness? Without giving meaning to Gehenna itself?

My siblings thought we were the masters of this world. But it became evident that we were subservient to an even greater force that, through our Icarian ambitions, had gain a consciousness and will of it's own.

It has been said that gazing upon Satan leads to madness. Lucifer did, and he has never been the same.

To me… it was like waking from a dream.


	5. You think I can't shoot you?

_Title_ : You think I can't shoot you?  
 _Written_ : March 16 2016  
 _Warnings_ : None.  
 _Characters_ : Yukio Okumura  
 _Summary_ : Rin was so full of conviction and so wrong. Spoilers for chapter 77.

* * *

"This is just like last time! You won't shoot!"

In that moment, Yukio narrowed his eyes. _You think I can't shoot you?_

Rin was so full of conviction – and ever so wrong.

 _Three targets. Head, chest, neck._

How many times had he run the scenario through his head? The dorm they shared. The night after Amaimon's attack and Rin's trial. Even as he dozed after the defeat of the Impure King.

 _The dulled sound of the nutrient bullets thumped three times._

There was no defeating something like Rin: only escaping and calling help to stop him, hoping that someone stronger would show mercy.

 _Two targets. Head, mouth._

So he studied how to buy time. Two minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. There was no stopping Rin for longer than twenty minutes.

 _Rin was falling._

How stupid was Rin to think he didn't have the will to do what was necessary? It was bigger than him. Bigger than both of them. Hesitation was a weakness that he couldn't afford. Rin would have to learn that one day.


	6. Challenge

_Title_ : Challenge  
 _Written_ : January 31 2018  
 _Warnings_ : None.  
 _Characters_ : Saburota Toudou, Yukio Okumura.

 _Summary_ : Saburota is surprised by the interloper interrupting his mission.

* * *

"Odd," said Saburota.

He'd been tracking the team of exorcists. However, their trail seemingly ended here. The footprints mysteriously disappeared. He paused, checking over the ground, working out the puzzle in his head. Magic, perhaps? A wily grin sneaked onto his face. Oh, of course. The girl who summoned Greenman! The trees and brush here must have been changed. He raised an eyebrow in amusement at the less-than-clever trick. Surely they were ahead. If he made haste, he'd catch up to them soon.

Saburota raised a hand to clear the unnatural vegetation when a gunshot cracked the air in front of him. He shifted his gaze towards the interloper. Over off the beaten path, Yukio Okumura was crouched in branches of an oak tree. His right hand rested on his gun, pointed downwards.

"Really, Okumura," Saburota admonished. "You could've hit me."

"That was a warning shot," said Yukio. "You're not following them."

"Are you giving me orders, Okumura?" Saburota shook his head, chuckling. "You seem to have forgotten your place."

He took a step forwards. Another gunshot range out, this time striking the area in front of him. The bracken crackled and popped as turquoise blue fire blazed through the brush.

"This is getting tiresome, Okumura. The Commander gave you tremendous leeway and I approved. However, you are now interfering with our mission. I'm afraid I can no longer tolerate your insubordinate actions."

"I don't care for the Commander or your mission," said Yukio. "You will not follow the exorcists."

Saburota raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Are you helping your brother?"

Yukio didn't respond. Saburota studied his protégé carefully. Indeed, he saw the young man's grip on the gun tighten. He sighed.

"How disappointing. After all the progress you made, you return to acting like your father's trained attack-dog. I understand. You were raised to protect your brother and it is difficult to undo that indoctrination. But you don't have to be chained to that fate anymore."

Yukio looked away from Saburota. And then, he wryly smiled.

"Amazing," said Yukio. "After all this time, you don't understand a thing about me. Weren't you the very one who said I had a demon's nature? As if I'm here to help anyone but myself. It's simple, Toudou. I don't like you and this is the perfect opportunity to take you out."

Saburota looked Yukio in the eye. "You're still lying to yourself," he mused, barely audible over the flames.

"Does it matter to you?" said Yukio, sarcasm lacing every word. "It shouldn't. You'll be too dead to care soon enough."

"So presumptuous," Saburota smirked. Karura's power warmed his fingertips and red flames emanated from his body. "That arrogance will be your downfall. Do you think you with your borrowed power can defeat the phoenix?"

Yukio slid down the tree to face Saburota. His eyes were an otherworldly blue. "I won't need much to defeat a pathetic old man."


	7. Headshot

_Title_ : Headshot  
 _Written_ : March 11 2018  
 _Characters_ : Yukio Okumura  
 _Summary_ : Yukio gets shot in the head and has an epiphany about how he treated Rin. Not all epiphanies are good though. Spoilers for chapter 97.  
 _Notes_ : I've written a number of little fics in the last two months that I'm only now getting around to posting on this site. I posted this one first on tumblr, so if it looks familiar, that's why.

* * *

"Damn," muttered Yukio. Despite his improved balance, hearing and movement since awakening his own demon power, he was still too slow! The team of exorcists had ambushed him while he was alone. He wasn't ready for this fight. Even with his senses amplified, he had a hard time keeping up with the new information. The time for him to process the information had completely eroded his advantage.

The mid-tier exorcist he faced took advantage of that, directing their team to bob in and out of the trees. That forced Yukio to fight on the defensive, having to balance between dodging and tracking where they were. He grit his teeth in frustration. Trying to break the stalemate, he attempted to get distance from the team. He moved backwards, but ran into someone. He turned to face the business end of a gun barrel.

The air split with the sound. He saw the bullet, and was knocked against the ground.

 _What…_ The shock through his skull echoed deep in his mind. Blood ran down his forehead, down his throat. The knowledge seared into his mind from years of training recognized it. A killing shot. Brainstem impact. Fatal.

He coughed up blood, paralyzed by the pain. He couldn't believe how much it hurt. Part of him was in denial, not even believing what had just happened.

Dead. He was dead.

At the edge of his vision, he saw the exorcists drawing closer, voices whispering. (He was dead.) He'd been an exorcist long enough to already know what they were saying. ( _He was dead_.) He'd once asked the same things. Had they won? Could they capture the enemy? Was that _really_ all it took to kill a _demon_ of this class?

He was...

 _(Demon.)_

Not dead?

( _ **Demon**_.)

A... human would be dead now. Why... why was he thinking that? What did it matter?

He was not dead (human).

Was that it? Did part of him want to die here, let the exorcists kill him? That part of him… still vainly wanted to be human to the bitter end?

Insane, violent rage bubbled to the surface of his mind, at the laughable impossible wish to remain weak. He'd willingly thrown away his humanity the day he turned his back on Rin.

His turned his palm against the ground, generating a ring of blue fire around him. The exorcists jumped back, panicked gunshots ricocheting across the area.

He wasn't dying.

He wasn't human.

Just like Rin. Just like he'd always wanted.

He dragged himself upwards to sit in the circle. He raised his left hand to feel his forehead, touching the ripped and torn flesh at the entry wound. The blood flowing from the headshot caught in his throat, and he made a strange noise.

And this… this was what he'd done to Rin, wasn't it?

The choking noise gave way to laughter. The fire raged outwards, beyond the range of his control. The spasmodic hysterics and roar of flames drowned out the yelling of his assailants.

"I get it, Rin!"

The maniacal declaration was full of triumph and hate all the same. He understood now. Rin's fury, the tears... He'd just stood there, ambivalent. Silent and tolerant, ready to accept the necessary cost for his own power. He'd just made someone else suffer for his own sake. So this pain, this retribution… he deserved it all.

The bullet strafing his arm broke his reverie. He faced the Dragoon exorcist and walked towards him. He felt the gunfire strike across his body, but he didn't care. He'd accepted that was the price.

The Dragoon fired again, and again, and again until the weapon could only click, no ammunition left. Yukio's hand wrapped around the gunman's wrist and took the weapon. The Dragoon squirmed in his grasp, trying to run, but couldn't escape.

The gun was familiar in Yukio's hand. He raised it to his enemy's chest. "I'm sorry," he said as he closed his eyes. He focused the power down into the form most familiar to him.

He hated himself. That wasn't going to change. But hesitation was weakness. As was regret.

An otherworldly gunshot echoed, and the exorcist fell.


	8. Retrograde

_Title_ : Retrograde  
 _Written_ : April 21 2019  
 _Characters_ : Yukio Okumura, Lucifer, Renzou Shima, Satan  
 _Summary_ : Resistance is not the same as invulnerability, and there is a cost to using the Armumahel pistols.  
 _Notes_ : I've been wanting to write this ever since chapter 110 came out but I've been traveling a lot. Thanks to TBOE on the Discord for naming this drabble!

* * *

 _I once had a memory._

 _There were flames, and your fists raised high. A smile gleamed on your face. Your triumph and joy were overwhelming. It was like being doused in radiant sunlight to which I had no defense._

 _What did I feel then? At first it was happiness, then anger… or was it hate? Or love?_

 _I don't think I can tell anymore. Maybe it was always hard for me._

The world barely grounded him these days. Only the sensory information kept him in contact with reality. The metal of his gun was cold. The void energy contained within was even colder.

He didn't know if he'd always been in this uniform, though. Nor the screams… oh god, the screams. Was he on the right side? The nagging thought transcended the fragmented memory, like an anchor threatening to drag him down.

But the shouts would be soon forgotten, like the passing heat of the fire he walked through.

"Okumura-kun." The one before him was authoritative yet calm. He didn't know who 'Okumura' was, but the suffix indicated familiarity.

The statement repeated, and he realized it could be his name. Huh. How did such an important piece of himself slip his mind?

"Yes, sir?" He acknowledged the statement, as a fragment of impulse reminded him to. Why? He considered pawing through the context in his mind, but decided against.

"Did you complete your mission?"

He didn't know. What was his mission? He had nothing to remind him where he'd been or what he'd done. His hands were clean. Evidently he hadn't killed anyone.

"He did, Commander," said a pink-haired teenager, who'd appeared next to him seemingly out of nowhere. The person's face was grim and almost angry. "Teach doesn't remember though."

"I am pleased," the one (commander?) said, placing a hand on his shoulder. The commander sighed. "It is a shame, though… Even with your resistance, you still succumb to Armumahel's power. You are only human."

He doesn't know if he should react to that. The person beside him shakes his head, before muttering, "well Teach sure doesn't act like it."

The reproach is evident in both.

"I accomplished my mission, right?" He wanted a confirm. At least then, he knew he was doing what he should.

The Commander nodded. "Yes. Now, I will give you your final mission. Look for the nephalem that shares your face. Bring him down, but do not kill him."

There was a dark chuckle from somewhere in his head, and blue flame poured from behind the eyepatch over his left eye. The voice began to speak. "Well done, Lucifer. I will soon have my body."

"Yes, Father. And soon you will have Assiah," said the Commander, partially bowing.

He glances at the pink-haired one, who is watching with an inscrutable expression. He wishes there was more to tell him what is happening. But since there aren't, he has to accept what is occurring.

The nephilim that shares his face? He has little memory anymore. But it sounded familiar.

"I will do as you ask," he says. His grip intensifies on his weapons. The metal of his gun was cold. The void energy contained within was even colder. They were the only reminders of what he is. What his purpose is.

 _I am empty._

 _Yet sometimes I still dream. I think it's the only time I feel. I can see the outline of your face, and there's a warmth within me. But your eyes are missing. Critical details just disappear. And even if I think I know who you are, I forget by the time I wake._

 _I once had a memory. Or was it a dream?_ _I don't think I can tell the difference anymore. Maybe it was always hard for me._


	9. Crumbling Empire

_Title_ : Crumbling Empire  
 _Written_ : June 21 2019 (edits: October 25 2019)  
 _Characters_ : Lucifer  
 _Summary_ : Lucifer observes his flock in the wreckage of the Dominis Liminis.  
 _Warnings:_ Implied character death _  
Notes_ : Wrote this on a "Made-up fic title" ask. Thank you Hails/HMS-Siren for the prompt!

* * *

The Dominis Liminis lay broken on the Arctic landscape, split in half. All kinds of flotsam and wreckage were strewn across the glacial sheet. The glass subject containers were broken, distorted from melting upon impact. Lucifer spotted the bodies of his servants who had not escaped: some intact, others separated into pieces that resembled cuts in a butcher's shop. The sight was like a mockery of everything that had happened. His perfect machine, the embodiment of defiance against Shemihaza's vaunted and unbendable "laws of the world", had been brought to final ruin by little more than fragile ice.

He watched as one of his personnel, a famous chef who designed their menus, started vomiting at the sight of a fallen comrade. Crying even. Lucifer felt familiar vague disgust. How could humans could be so self-centered? This was the true form of humanity - flesh, muscle, and bone. These charred piles of meat were all they were. How could any of them work for the goals of this organization and not understand?

No, the loss of this great airship was what was truly regrettable. Thankfully the research for father's vessel was complete. Their father would walk Assiah once more. It had cost everything, though. The bodies Lucifer relied upon expired in the explosion. This would be his last for some time.

He couldn't help but feel some distress over the loss. The later years of Section 13 had been beyond painful. He dug the exposed claws, unable to be hidden for the exertion of power, into his fragile vessel's palm. He had no wish to return to that time, reduced to a burnt out husk begging Shemihaza for one more day to live.

As Lucifer walked towards the remnants of his army, he observed their demeanor. Though some were like the pitiable human he'd seen earlier, visibly distraught and doubting, the majority had stone faces. This incident had not dampened their energy to see the new world. He needed them now.

He opened his mouth, and nearly doubled over. The pain shot from his hip, familiar burning.

"Commander!"

"Lord Lucifer!"

He endured, ignoring their shouts of worry. The woman he used to rely upon, with the silver-streaked hair, had perished. Her name was Homare Toudou, but the name had lost relevance the moment she had gone. He had to stand on his own now, to see this new world through.

"My Illuminati," he said, trying to not rasp. "We have been dealt a cruel card this day. We have suffered. But we must not lose faith. We must stay steady in our determination, our resolve. This injustice we feel, for the new world, for our fallen comrades-" Homare's face flashed in his mind, although he could not understand why. "Let it be the tinder for you. We must do whatever is necessary to remake the world. Let us go forth!"

The crowd reacted in whoops and cheers. Even the faces of the doubters changed, joining their fellow Illuminati in rapturous fury. The eyes of the man he'd seen vomiting earlier were shining, not with tears but with fearless fervor.

Lucifer reprimanded himself. How could he doubt any of them? They believed in his vision above all else. Humanity was arrogant and weak, but his Illuminati who acknowledged this and followed him were special. Unlike the rest, their lives would not be expended wastefully.

* * *

 _ **A/N** : _For life reasons that are too long and unpleasant to get into, I've had writer's block for the last year. My ability to write new things is currently shot. However, I have a stash of mostly-complete short drabbles that I wrote 2 years ago. They're not as good as I'd like them to be, but sometimes you gotta say "screw it" and kick perfectionism in the teeth. So I'm going to finish them and post them here.


End file.
